It was finally the night you had been waiting for. The last, final game of international volleyball championship there, in the city of Chicago. Beside that it was the game you had been made a captain of your team. For the entire competition you had been trying to prove your coach you have leadership abilities on and off the court, but you stood no chance against her first choice for a captain, coach's own daughter. However, a week ago Casey, coach's daughter, had been disqualified for the rest of the competition due to her unfair play and unprofessional behavior, including being rude to those who came to see the competition, cussing at the referees and several purpose shots to opponents' heads.
Just before the final game, coach had called you away from the others: "Peyton, tonight the entire nation is counting on you. You know I'd much rather see Casey play and be a captain, but after her, you were the best choice for a captain."
She shut up and gave you some time to let you sink her words in your mind. Without a doubt you knew you would have been replaced in a blink of an eye if Cas was allowed to come back and you also knew you coach wouldn't hesitate a second of taking that "captain" title away. That made your blood boil. Apparently, being related to a coach was more important and had more benefits than hard work, put into a sport, and the talent.
"I will not let you down, coach,' you replied, trying to conceal how you really felt and you hoped the sarcasm, put into the last word.
"Good, I hope so. Now get ready and give your team mates a pep talk or something."
She walked away and you snuck away in your dressing room. Quickly, you scanned through your back and pulled out your phone. You wrote a message to your boyfriend, Chicago Blackhawks goalie, Corey Crawford : "Coach made me a captain! <3" in hurry and sprinted back to your already waiting team.
"Alright, girls. As you all know, I mean you all should, we've been in this together since the first day, we've been through a lot in past weeks and playing here tonight is our hard-earned prize. I could be the same as our coach or Casey, telling how important it is for us, for the entire nation, to win this competition and that everything, every drop of sweat, would be for nothing if we didn't win this game tonight, but I won't be like them. We were the underdogs through out the majority of the competition, we were the most underrated team and look at us now. We are in the fucking finals, facing Canada. Sure, winning would be great, but let's be realistic. Canada has been dominating this competition and we'd probably need a miracle to win, but I want you to play this game like volleyball is supposed to be played. With pride, confidence and most importantly, fairly. Let's give Chicago the taste of excellent volleyball for the last time. On three. One, two, three, USA!"
Entire team shouted with me and you felt proud to be a part of this team, who was now like your family. With five minutes remaining until the official beginning of the game and introduction of both teams, you have some time to relax and mentally prepare for the following minutes, maybe hours.
"What is Corey Crawford doing here?" you heard your teammates wonder and your eyes flew wide open. And there he was, towering above petite figures of your teammates, dressed in a Blackhawks T-shirt, and jeans, his hair folded under a cap and his Blackhawks hoodie hanging from his arm. Your heart shuddered from happiness and pure love for this man. In a matter of seconds he was surrounded by your teammates, but you knew no matter how hard they tried to get his attention, his heart was set on you. Had been, in fact, for the last four years.
"Hey there," you slowly approached him, huge grin resting on your lips. His face lighted up as he saw you coming closer to him: "Hey, babe. Or shall I say, miss Captain?"
"Peyton will do it, thank you very much," you grinned and hugged him.
"I think miss Captain suits you better," he said and in a next moment his strong arms lifted you and he spun you around.
"Put me down," you squealed, making him laugh quietly. When he finally put you down, he covered your face with warm and gentle kisses.
"Hey! No PDA!" you heard your coach yell. Of course she showed up just in time to break your perfect good luck kiss apart. Corey pulled away and lightly slapped your backside: "Good luck. I'll see you after the game, okay? And, baby, one more thing."
You questionably looked at him. "Canada will win," he winked and earned few angry glances from your team mates. Of course he said that, being a proud Canadian as he is!

The game was intense, your team proved the spot in the finals was not only consequence of fortunate events through out the competition, but a prize of your hard work and good game. Unfortunately, Canada was better and you had to admit that after the fifth game (team which reached three victories first won). As a captain, you were the first one to congratulate your opponents and you were already waiting in a row, when one of the referees called your name. You turned around and saw the oldest and the most experienced ref of the competition, man in his fifties, coming towards you.
"Miss, follow me please."
Surprised you followed him as he escorted you away and down the hallway, leading you further from your dressing room. You felt gazes on your back and that didn't help your nerves.
"Was there something wrong with our team?" you asked, your throat dry of fear something was not right. You knew that would not bring anything good and that your coach would blame only you. You looked at him and noticed he was actually smiling under his beard, which calmed you down a bit. But only a little bit.
"Sir, can you please tell me, what's going on?" you questioned again, slight annoyance present in your voice, but the ref still didn't answer. He kept leading you down the hall. Finally, after what it seemed like hours, he stopped and said: "Wait here until someone comes to get you, please."
And just like that, he left you alone. You knew they had to decorate the gym hall for the celebration, but you had absolutely no idea why you had to be separated from your team. Without giving you a chance to congratulate your opponents.
After another approximately thirty minutes, you heard loud music, thousands of hands clapping and sounds of running shoes pounding against the wooden floor. Your feet ached to run back, ignoring ref's instructions, but you stayed still, waiting for someone to pick you up. Soon after the same ref came to pick you up: "Peyton, please follow me. And even if the tings will be strange, go with a flow, okay?"
"O-Okay," you answered surprised. In an utter silence you walked towards the gym. You must admit, they tried really hard to make that ending unforgettable.
"And now, we would like the captain of team USA, Peyton, join us on the podium."
"Pey, they are calling you," one of your team mates lightly shoved you forward. Yeah, you heard that, but you were too surprised to move. Why were they calling you? The ref was right, things were getting pretty odd. And they'd get even odder...
You walked on the podium, all the eyes focused on you, which made you feel really uncomfortable. That was not it. Out of the blue, all the light were off and you felt like running away. Everything was weird, not in a good way.
When the lights were back on, you thought you were dreaming. Standing in front of you was Corey, his lips curved into the biggest smile you had ever seen. Doubtless, he was proud of you, of your game, of making it to the final game.
"You planned this all along?" you whispered, surprise and happiness overtaking you.
"Yeah. Before you were made a captain. I love you, Peyton."
Before you could even answer, he was kneeling in front of you, in front of everyone in that gym, and he pulled small ring box out of his pocket.
"You know I am not good with great speeches, so I will make it simple. Peyton, will you show me that honor of becoming my life? I know dating a hockey player is not the easiest thing to do and many girls couldn't cope with that, with the frustration of losing, all those away games with nearly no contact, but you are not one of them. You understand me, you know how moody I can be and you are still sticking with me."
"Oh, my God, yes! Yes!"
"That's my girl!" he exclaimed and slid the ring on your finger, stood up, lifted you like you were nothing but a sack of feathers and spun you around, covering your lips with his. After you accepted his proposal, the entire gym exploded in cheering.
"And by the way, Canada won, sweetie," Corey whispered to your ear and gently bit it before he put you down.

For MrsCoreyCrawford , hope you like it:)